


ach, du

by Jo_B



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Episode: s02e15 Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jo_B/pseuds/Jo_B
Summary: The Fisher King is dead the same way that Tobias Hankel is dead the same way that William Lee is dead. He thinks that he and Elle may have more in common than one might think.“I was wrong,” he says. “Just because you live and someone dies… doesn’t mean you can’t still lose.”// A phone call, post-Revelations.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	ach, du

**Author's Note:**

> The quarantine mood is "watching shows that came out a long time ago but i never watched for some reason" so here i am. The quarantine mood is also "start writing fanfic again for whatever reason even though you hadn't written anything in like 3 years before the pandemic hit"
> 
> Anyway, I had to stop and write something after watching Revelations, before I could continue. Episode had my jaw on the FLOOR and with Tumblr out of its prime, fics are all I can do to talk about a show lol
> 
> Sorry in advance if I can't get Reid's voice right, I'm almost done with season 2 but I don't think I have it yet. If I ever write something else, maybe it'll get there.

* * *

_I let her go. I let her go  
Diminished and flat, as after radical surgery.  
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.  
_— Elm, Sylvia Plath (1962)

* * *

It isn’t as if he never tried.

He tried.

He tried when he saw her desk empty for the very first time. Tried a week later, to the minute, just in case it was poor timing. He supposed there was no precise thing as good timing, not when he knew perfectly well why she was gone and why Hotch avoided looking at, leaning on, or considering filling the empty desk.

He tried on a Sunday afternoon at noon, exactly. Late enough for her to be up, and early enough for her not to be out.

It isn’t as if he never tried, but each time was a direct call to the answering machine.

It isn’t as if he never tried, but he never left a message. It isn’t as if he tried very hard, either. What would he have even said?

Morgan told him not to do this to himself, but it was only ever a suggestion, wasn’t it? He used to consider himself so _obedient,_ but that wasn’t true either. For all his genius – he has a nasty streak of headstrong stupidity. The Kevlar comes off. His gun is drawn and dropped in the middle of a Georgia cornfield. Every action has its consequences.

It’s two in the morning and he has no business calling. A familiar tone: “The number you have reached…”

The _beep_ is long and high-pitched, and for a moment, the empty phone line sounds like it’s screaming.

“Elle,” he starts, stops, waits. “It’s… been awhile.”

It’s been months since he called, even longer since the day she walked out of the Bureau.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Silence stretches for years and years. There’s no one on the other end, but there’s a time limit he’d rather not hit without saying anything of substance.

“I suspect your first instinct would be to… tell me not to apologize. To which I might say, ‘You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.’ But you probably _do_ know, and the fact that you haven’t answered my calls suggests… I don’t know exactly what it suggests. You probably don’t want to hear it.”

A pause. “But at the risk of committing a selfish act…” A sin? “You may not need or want to hear it, but I think I need to say it.”

 _It_ being nothing he’s prepared any words for. A deep breath never quite does the trick, but it helps. He stammers through most things he says with an audience watching him, and the silence on the other end of the line is audience enough to make this call no exception.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I knew you weren’t okay after you came back, and I didn’t say anything. I was naïve and thought that it would all turn out alright. I assumed you would be alright in time because you’re you. Which isn’t to say that you’re any less _you_ because of what happened.”

What _happened_.

“Mistakes happen to human beings.” It’s what he tells himself. It’s what Gideon and Hotch and JJ and Morgan and Prentiss tell him, tell each other, tell themselves.

He glances over at his nightstand drawer, hiding tiny vials that clink against each other whenever he pulls it open to stare at them. He hasn’t touched them yet, but feels the pull in his bones. It makes his stomach drop.

Shame begets shame begets shame.

“What I’m more sorry about, though,” he continues, “is what I said when I came to your room that night. I said something that was incorrect.”

It’s two-oh-seven in the morning and he really has no business calling.

“I told you that the Fisher King was dead and you were alive. And I said that because of that… you won.”

The Fisher King is dead the same way that Tobias Hankel is dead the same way that William Lee is dead. He thinks that he and Elle may have more in common than one might think.

“That was wrong,” he says. “Just because you live and someone dies… doesn’t mean you can’t still lose.”

Tonight is his third night in a row not sleeping. It is two-oh-eight in the morning and he has no business going to her for absolution.

He sighs. “Anyway. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And that I miss seeing you around. And that I hope whatever you’re doing now is safe and… and makes you happy. You don’t need to call me back if you don’t want to. Good night, Elle.”

His receiver hits the hook like a gavel on its block, some final judgement.

He climbs back into bed and the night stands still, time stopped, trapping him in place.

It is two-thirteen in the morning when the phone rings.

“Hello?” His voice doesn’t exactly sound like _his_ anymore.

“Reid,” the voice on the other end is quiet and careful and he wonders what he’s given away. “It’s Elle. Hey.”

“I thought it might be.” A small, unexpected smile. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”


End file.
